"I am Durgo!" explained the negro, annoyed by her silence, as was apparent from the frown which wrinkled his eye-brows. "Where is my master?"

"I don't know where your master is," she replied, finding her tongue with some difficulty. "I do not know who your master is."

"My master," said the negro, "is my master. He came here two weeks and some days ago, more or less. I have come to find him. Where is he?"

"How can I tell you when I do not even know his name?" asked Bella sharply.

"His name is——" Durgo was about to satisfy her curiosity, when he caught sight of the photograph in the silver frame, which still stood on the table. With a guttural cry of delight, he caught this up in his huge hands. "Oh, my master! my master!" he gurgled, in an ecstasy of delight.

Bella stepped back a pace with a scared look. "Mr. Lister your master?"

Durgo nodded, and coolly slipped the photograph, frame and all, into the breast pocket of his tweed coat. "He is here! I shall find him," he remarked. "Did my master see Captain Huxham?"

"Yes," she replied mechanically.

"Did my master and Captain Huxham quarrel?"

"Yes," she replied again, and still mechanically.

"And did my master get what he wanted?" demanded the negro, rolling his eyes.

"I don't know what Mr. Lister wanted," said Bella faintly; "you must explain yourself, and——"

"I explain nothing until I see my master," was Durgo's reply. "Perhaps Captain Huxham knows where my master is?"

"Captain Huxham is dead," she gasped.

Durgo shut his strong white teeth with a click. "Dead!" he repeated. "Ah—aha—aha; Captain Huxham is dead. Then my master——"

"No," cried Bella, covering her eyes. "I don't believe that Cyril killed my father—I don't believe it."

"Cyril! father!" repeated Durgo, looking at her curiously. "I must learn if——" He broke off suddenly and moved noiselessly to the window. Bella stretched a helpless hand to stay him, but, lightly vaulting out of doors, he disappeared in a moment. She rushed to the window and saw him 

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